49We talked for another ten minutes before going our separate ways.
A half-block from my house, I pushed the dashboard button to raise the garage door.
I turned onto the concrete strip in front of my place.
Dressed in eye-catching neon-orange, Marina blocked my path.
I braked hard. My chest slammed against the steering wheel.
Now only twelve inches from my bumper, Marina again wore the pants with the big loopy bow at the waist. Her phone was in one hand.
A zippered tote bag patterned with wide-eyed owls sat on the concrete beside her feet.
A counterfeit Kate Spade bag with fake-gold hardware dangled from her shoulder. The white faux-leather was embroidered with huge orange blooms and finished with a handful of silver studs.
I closed my eyes for a second to recover from the dizzying
